Think it best if I quit singin� songs I know you don�t wanna hearnAnd songs that it pains me to writenAnd words draw bloodnBut it�s ok, yeah I feel greatnAnd in a dream you were an opiatennThink these lines been bendin� you wi guiltnGuilt that you can�t toleratenTill resentments all you feel for menAn no, it�s all ok, an I feel finenAnd in dreams you let me hold you sometimesnnThis morning sleepin�, in dreams I�m wishin�nThat the bed might swallow me - and the broken sunnBurnin�, I�m wakin�, the night was fixin�nTo bathe the sky in pristine moonlight watersnAn in visions I saw Dublin weep in awe of younLike I still weep in awe of younnJonathan came home on Thursday night, he�d spent six months with the LordnLearnin� all bout how the love he had cut Jesus to the bonenAnd now he seesnThat a dream is all he wants to bennSpent my birthday talking to a hooker, yeah she helped me write this songnOutside a city-centre barnAn� neon dancing in the cracks beneath our feetnAn� a ten-quid kiss off Donegal StreetnnSomeone was whistling a song found shiveringnWrapped up in blankets, left abandoned by a burnt-out factorynA song written for you, another lovelorn verse or twonAlive wi� screamin� longing, an your smile as towerin� effigynAhead and to each side a menAnd God in every purple whispernnAnd still sat watchin� the TV glowin�nPulsing from cracks inside the walls, an you were bleeding from this woundnI�ve had since early spring, when first I saw how everythingnWas stitched from strands of savage purple lightnAnd yeah, the world held up on stringsnManipulated by the hands I hold when sleep can find me